Saturday, May 09, 2015

I’m thinking about Mother’s Day…or Mothers’ Day. So many
articles out there this week prior to that day set aside by Hallmark to honor
mothers. Living or dead, Facebook is full of poems and prose about how
wonderful one mother or another is or was.

Mine is dead. But when she was alive, Mother’s Day belonged
to her. It was never mine. She was my mother regardless of whether or not I had
children.

In many ways, in fact, Mother’s Day continues to be about my
mother regardless of the fact that she is no longer living.

I had a fairly great relationship with my mom…it grew into a
mutual admiration relationship as adults built up from love from our lifetime
together. I know that there are people who have not, do not have such a
relationship with their mother. I am sympathetic to that problem. It is not
this day with which I am concerned; rather, it is the relationship. I sorrow
for that mother’s loss; for that child’s loss.

At one time, I wanted the day to be about me but since it
rarely was about me other than for a few short minutes, after a while, the
short minutes of hoopla became kind of silly. Don’t get me wrong…I love being
thanked for all the things I have done and will continue to do…for all the
unconditional love. It is nice.

And it means something.

However, I just cannot allow it to mean THAT much.
Seriously. How can one day make up for a whole year…a lifetime? It cannot.

Am I less of a mother or more of a mother simply because or
in spite of one day? Does it mean my children, born or adopted, by birth or by
law, love me more because they give me a card or less because they forgot or
didn’t have the dollars to do so or the desire or time to make one? Well, I
hope not.

There are many women who have made an intentional choice to
have no children. There are many women who have intentionally strived to have
children to no avail. There are many women who have had children but were
unable to raise them for whatever reason. That does not mean that there are no
children who consider them important parts of their lives and love them
accordingly.

And there are many women (and men) who have taken on the
role of mother for a short time…or for a longer one…regardless of having chosen
to do so.

All mothers are not women; all women are not mothers.

Try as much as I would like, I cannot ignore this day. It is
still about my mom. She loved me. She told me so on so many occasions. She
showed me so in every look, even when it was the “hairy eyeball” look that meant I best change my evil ways. I
especially remember the last time she showed me her love. There were no words
because she was far passed being able to communicate through speech. But she
communicated nonetheless. As she stared at me intently, her eyes told me how much she loved me.

I carry her love with me every day of my life. It is a
banner; it is a shield.

I pray that I continue to let her love shine through me,
marking me, reminding me of our time together.

About Me

I know you know

that everything in this blog is authored or photographed by me (except where noted) and that it is placed on this blog to share with all who will read it. If you want to share, please do so; however, since this is my own writing and pictures, please let it be known that it is mine. I knew you already knew that...but I was told I needed to put it in writing...so here it is!

On another note:

Everything written here is my opinion. It does not reflect the views of any establishment for whom I work, volunteer or paid. It is mine and mine alone.